“Oh, there’s lots to do. We go fishing and sailing and swim in the cove. Of course, we go tubing and skiing on the speed boat, too.” They rarely have potato chips at home, so she opens that bag first. “Sometimes we play miniature golf at Watson Lake or go into town for ice cream. The best part of being at the lake, though, is just hanging out and relaxing and not having to do anything.”
“Hmm … sounds fun.” Kaitlyn says this in a way that makes it clear that it doesn’t sound fun. “Do you belong to the Yacht Club?” She opens her second package of fruit snacks.
“No, I’ve never been.”
“We should go sometime—my parents belong. Swimming in the pool is much nicer than the lake. All that seaweed—ick.”
“Yeah, I’d like to go.” Marcie feels a little bit like she is being absorbed into Kaitlyn’s world, doing all these things she has never done before. She never wanted to until now. It’s all pretty exciting, but she feels somewhat off balance—not quite herself.
They decide to go up to Kaitlyn’s room for a while, and Marcie feels a pang of envy as she enters the room. It’s bigger than her room at home and is furnished with a four-poster canopy bed, an armchair and footstool, and Kaitlyn has her own private bathroom. Everything matches—the curtains, bedding, towels, and carpet—like it was all purchased at the same time. Which it probably was. They did just move in this summer.
“Wow!” she says admiringly. “You have a great room. Is your room at home this nice?”
“Thanks. Do you like the flip flop theme?” She gestures to the bedspread where the recurring pattern of sandals in pastel shades of pink and orange appears. “My mom and I found all the bedding and towels on the Internet. We coordinated everything. It’s perfect for the lake, don’t you think? My room at home is okay, but now I want to redecorate it, too! I saw some really great stuff in this magazine. Here, I’ll show you.” Kaitlyn grabs a magazine from her dresser and plops down on the bed, motioning for Marcie to join her. They look through magazines and catalogues picking out things they like, reading articles and giving each other quizzes to find out “What Kind of Friend are You?”
They are in the middle of reading an article about planning a slumber party when Mrs. Swyndall pops her head into the doorway. “Kaitlyn—Oh, hello, Marcie. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Hi, Mrs. Swyndall.” Marcie looks up from her magazine and feels her heart start pounding anxiously as she has the irrational thought that somehow Mrs. Swyndall will know that they took the wave runner to the sand bar. She is about to say more, but Kaitlyn quickly jumps in and says, “I saw Marcie and her brothers go into James Bay to go fishing earlier today, so I picked her up on the wave runner and brought her over here. I hope that was okay.” She smiles innocently at her mom.
“Oh, sure, no problem. As long as you stay in the bay.”
“I know, Mom,” Kaitlyn says calmly. Marcie can feel herself flush guiltily. She’s not used to deceiving adults, and not sure how she feels about it.
“Well, I just got back from the store and I could use some help unpacking the food and setting up for the barbeque. Why don’t you two get dressed and come down to give me a hand?”
Marcie realizes she is still wearing her bathing suit and that she left her clothes on the dock. “I’ll just run down to the dock to get my clothes. My suit is dry so I can put them on over it.”
Kaitlyn walks over to the door and checks the hallway. Certain that her mom has left, she claps her hands gleefully and says, “Did you see how I handled that? Take it from the pro, it’s always best to be right up front with information, so they don’t think you’re hiding anything. Just don’t blow it when you see Kyle.” She points a scolding finger at Marcie. “Remember, you haven’t met him yet.”
“Got it,” replies Marcie with a snap of her fingers and more confidence than she feels. She thinks, I could be an actress, I feel like I’m playing the part of someone else! “Well, I’ll be back in a few.”
She decides to go down the front staircase—yes, there are two stairways—so she can see more of the house. The two doors she passes in the upstairs hallway are obviously guest bedrooms—attractive, but impersonal. The family’s bedrooms are at the back of the house, to take in the lake views. On her way through the downstairs front entry she hears the muffled sound of someone talking. She doesn’t think about why she decides to follow the sound of the voice, but it does seem that something is compelling her to do it. She walks silently across the geometrically patterned hall rug in nautical shades of red, white, and blue, and, feeling a little strange in her bathing suit, approaches the room where voices can be heard. The door is slightly ajar and she pauses to listen where she can just barely see inside but won’t be seen herself.
Mr. Swyndall is sitting at his desk with his back to her. He is using the speaker phone and Marcie can hear the person on the other end of the line speaking. A man’s voice is saying “Yes … we have the permits all in place. We don’t need to get special approval since it’s private property and the zoning is all taken care of.”
“Great. We want to move ahead quickly on this to avoid interference from anyone. It should be presented as a public area with walking and biking paths. Everyone will go for that. The gated community is secondary until we’re too far into the project for objections to stick.” Mr. Swyndall leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. “Then we can start selling building lots.”
“It’s all taken care of,” the disembodied voice on the phone says confidently. “James Woods Park is the name we’ll be using at first. It won’t be James Woods Estates until we’re ready to start building houses.”
James Woods Estates! Building houses! So her fears from last night were real. Mr. Swyndall is planning to develop James Woods, and he’s not being entirely up front about what he’s doing. She wonders how much Al really knows about this. He seemed unsatisfied with Mr. Swyndall’s answers last night, but he didn’t press it too much. Maybe he was being polite. Marcie knows she should move away from the door before she’s caught eavesdropping, but she feels rooted to the spot. It would be difficult to explain what she is doing hanging out in the hallway in her bathing suit.
“Alright, then. Keep me posted,” Mr. Swyndall says. “We’ll talk on Monday.” He leans over the desk and presses a button on the phone to hang up.
Oh, no! Marcie thinks. He’s hanging up. Quick, back to the entry. Her paralysis transformed to action, Marcie swiftly and silently pads in her bare feet back to the entryway. Once there, she sees a doorway that leads to the kitchen and the back of the house and hurries towards it. She is slightly out of breath from shock and exertion when she enters the kitchen. Mrs. Swyndall is unpacking grocery bags.
“I left my clothes outside on the dock,” she says with a wave. “I’ll just get dressed and we’ll be down to help you get ready.” She has a fleeting and irrational thought about trying out for the next school play. She really is good at this. Especially since all the while her mind is whirling with thoughts—Oh my gosh, what am I going to do? How can I stop this, and who will believe me anyway?
Ten
MARCIE SPENDS THE rest of the afternoon and evening in a daze. Her thoughts keep distracting her by going back to the conversation she overheard. She and Kaitlyn get dressed and help Mrs. Swyndall set up for the party, but Marcie isn’t paying attention to what she is doing and almost drops a platter of watermelon before she gets herself in hand. When her parents and brothers arrive with her grandparents in tow, there isn’t any opportunity for her to talk with them alone about what she found out. She’s practically bursting with her knowledge, and she’s so worried that she’ll confront Mr. Swyndall in front of everyone that she tries to stay completely away from him. Not that it’s too difficult. He is standing around the grill with the other men and not paying much attention to the girls.
One part of the evening stands out clearly in her mind. When Kyle and Conner come back from the sandbar and introductions are made all around, Kaitlyn announce
s, “You are looking at the future winning team of the July 4th Regatta!” Her hand sweeps across Kyle, Conner, Marcie, and herself, who all happen to be standing together by the drinks cooler. A brief silence follows that seems to last a lot longer than a few seconds to Marcie. Then everyone exhibits slightly different reactions to the news. Her parents and the Swyndalls are pleased at the idea. The moms particularly so, since they suggested that they do some sailing together in the first place.
“Oh, that’ll be fun, Marce. You’ve always wanted to compete in the races!” says her mom. Her dad is looking a little warily at Kyle and Conner, probably thinking the same thing as Marcie had at the sand bar—that they are too old for her, but he says, “The Regatta Champions, huh? Looks like the Boat Company team will have some competition this year, Eric.” He nudges Eric in the ribs.
Eric’s surprise is immediately evident on his face. His mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes are wide, but he quickly regains his composure. Raising one eyebrow and tilting his head to one side, he says, “I wouldn’t be too confident about winning. There are a lot of good teams competing.” He pauses and adds, “Anyway, we’re ready… Bring it on!”
Mr. Swyndall says, “So, Eric, you’re on the Boat Company team? I heard there was a bit of a rivalry with the Yacht Club. That’ll be a great way to break in the new E scow. A little healthy competition!” He thumps Kyle on the back.
“Yeah, we’re up for it.” Kyle nods in Eric’s direction acknowledging the challenge. Turning to Marcie, Kaitlyn, and Conner he says, “How do Tuesday and Thursday look for us to practice? Are you guys free? About 10 a.m. should be a good time for the wind.” They all agree to meet at the Swyndalls’ on Tuesday. Then, in addition to avoiding Mr. Swyndall, Marcie also avoids Eric for the rest of the evening. That doesn’t stop him from glowering at her from across the room, though.
IN THE VAN on the way back to Mamaw and Poppy’s, they barely pull out of the driveway before Marcie blurts out, “Al was right! Mr. Swyndall is planning to build a gated community in James Woods! I overheard him talking to someone on the phone about acting to everyone like they were going to develop the land into a public park, but they are really planning to make it into private estates! What are we going to do? He can’t do that to James Woods. It’s our special place.” It all comes out in a rush and when she pauses for breath, her dad says, “Whoa! Slow down a minute. Now what exactly did you hear?”
She tells them about overhearing the conversation and what was said and adds, “We have to stop him!”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” says Mamaw. “Those woods are some of the only undeveloped land left on the lake. Sometimes when I walk there, I almost feel like I’m in a sacred place.”
“It is his land, Marce. He said he already has all the permits, too,” says Poppy resignedly. “I’m not sure there is much we can do.”
“Your mother and I are in a difficult position, honey,” says her dad, sighing. “First of all, we’re going home tonight, and your mom is heading to Utah in the morning, so we won’t even be around, and secondly, Mr. Swyndall is technically our boss as president of the university. We have to be careful about how we handle this.”
Marcie can’t believe what she’s hearing. “You’re not all going to give up without trying are you?” she cries. “This is our lake too, and we should fight for it. He’s a Laker and all the people who buy the houses will be Lakers. They don’t care about the lake the same way we do. They won’t even live here full time. It’s just an investment for them. We have to do something!”
They are all quiet for a moment, lost in their thoughts, and then Marcie’s mom says, “Perhaps there’s something about the land that would prevent them from developing it. It is pretty marshy in the bay, maybe it’s wetlands or something.”
“Or a wildlife sanctuary!” says Eric excitedly.
They arrive at the cottage, and her dad turns off the engine. For a moment they all just sit in the van. Then her dad says, “Well, kids, your mom and I have to hit the road now if we’re going to get home at a decent hour.” He turns around to face Marcie. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to be in a position to offer much help on this, but there may be some things that you can do. Al might want to be involved.” He opens the door of the van and gets out. “Jill, I’ll bring our bags out and load up the car.” They are taking Mamaw and Poppy’s car and leaving the van for them to use.
“Thanks. Here, kids, give me a hug goodbye,” her mom says. “I won’t see you for a couple weeks. Not until the Fourth.” They all get out of the van and say goodbye. Their dad loads up the car and they drive away. The kids stand on the driveway, waving until the car turns the corner out of sight. Drew and her grandparents start to go into the house, but Eric says to Marcie, “Let’s go find Al and tell him what you heard. He may be able to help.”
“We’re going over to Al’s house for a while,” Eric calls to Mamaw and Poppy.
Since the Summer Solstice is only a few days away, the days are long and there is still plenty of daylight left as they walk over the lawn and along the sea wall towards Al’s house, which sits closer to the water than their cottage. They are silent until they reach the water, and then Eric says, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Regatta. What’re you thinking of, crewing for a Laker team? They’re just using you to win, you know.”
“Well, I want to win too,” Marcie replies indignantly. “And who says it’s not me who’s using them? I can’t crew for the Boat Company team, and there aren’t any other teams asking me. And, it’s really none of your business.”
“Well, just watch yourself. You know as well as I do that Kaitlyn hangs out with the popular crowd. They can be fickle friends. One day you’re ‘in’ and the next day you’re ‘out.’ Who needs friends like that?”
“Have a little faith in me, why don’t you? It’s not like I’m trying to be part of that crowd—it’s just a sailboat race. Anyway, Kaitlyn’s not like all the rest of them. She’s genuinely nice.” Even as she says this, though, Marcie knows it’s not entirely true, judging by some of Kaitlyn’s behavior that day.
“I guess I’m just surprised you were taken in so easily by the Swyndalls and all their stuff. They’re not really our type.”
Marcie heaves an exasperated sigh, but doesn’t say any more. They’ve reached Al’s back porch, and she can see him sitting on the swing with Pansy at his feet.
“Hey there, you two! I could use some company. Come for some candy?”
“No, I mean, yes, we’d love some candy, but we really came to tell you that you were right about Mr. Swyndall. He is planning to develop James Woods into houses. I heard him talking to someone on the phone about it at their house,” Marcie says, as she and Eric sit down in the rocking chairs across from Al.
“I see,” he says grimly. “What exactly did you hear?”
For the second time, Marcie recounts the conversation she overheard. Al closes his eyes and listens, absently stroking Pansy’s head, his head nodding slightly as if in confirmation.
“I thought as much. A friend at the zoning commission said they were developing the land into a park area, but he implied that there was more to it than that, without actually telling me anything.”
“We’ve got to try to stop it, Al,” says Eric. “What can we do? Poppy thinks that we can’t do anything if Swyndall already has the permits in place, and Mom and Dad are hesitant to help because Mr. Swyndall is president of the university.”
“Yes, I can see how that would be tricky for them. Hmm … I’m not sure what we can do—yet. Let’s make a visit to the Zoning Commission tomorrow. I believe those permits are a matter of public record. Perhaps my friend over there can tell us our options now that we know what’s really going on.”
“Mom suggested that it might be considered wetlands. Aren’t those protected? Also, since Mr. Swyndall’s trying to hide what they’re really doing, he must think people won’t like it. We could get a petition going!”
“Those are
good ideas. Why don’t you two come by first thing tomorrow morning? Now, I need to get these old bones inside.” Twilight has fallen since they arrived, and a pearly grey light bathes the cove. A light breeze causes the flags hanging on nearly every pier to clang gently against the flag poles. Al rises slowly from the swing using his cane for support and Pansy jumps down beside him. “Don’t come by before 9 a.m., though. They don’t open till then, and I don’t want to get up any earlier. See you in the morning.” He walks stiffly to the screen door and lets it bang shut behind him.
Eleven
MAMAW AND MARCIE are getting out of the van at the farmer’s market when one of those army-type sports utility vehicles pulls into the spot next to them. The front of the truck is as tall as Marcie’s shoulder, and the engine roars slightly before the driver turns it off. Startled, Speck starts barking wildly, so Mamaw picks him up and says, “They scare me too! Don’t worry—I won’t let the Monster truck get you.”
The two of them were up early, so they decided to make a visit to Yoder’s Market while the selection is still good. The market is run by a Mennonite family and is very popular with the Lakers, so the produce goes fast. In fact, it’s rather busy already and it’s only 8:30 in the morning.
“Why do people buy those trucks? They can’t be very comfortable, and Mom and Dad say they’re gas guzzlers,” Marcie says while selecting strawberries from the bins set up in rows under the big yellow market tent and then collecting them in cardboard pint containers.
“My theory is that people are always striving for bigger and better things, thinking that it will make them happy or feel more important. It may work at first, but then the feeling wears off and they have to get something else—like the biggest truck they can buy. It’s a never-ending cycle because there’s always something else bigger and better.” She surveys the pints they have filled. “Is this enough?”
“Let’s get a few more. Maybe you could make short-cake again—it was great—and Drew likes them with cereal, too.” She pauses contemplatively, then asks, “Mamaw, what’s so wrong with wanting to have things? You have a nice house, and I like getting new things.”
Indian Summer Page 6
